Sometimes Nick reminded Brian of nothing so much as a puppy . Even now, when he was about twice Brian's size, Brian had to try hard sometimes not to pet Nick on the head when he did something that Brian found irresistibly cute. Instead he usually settled for a friendly hug or a teasing noogie.

But Brian's favorite moments were when they were wrestling. When Brian was squirming beneath Nick's weight, Nick sometimes leaned down and started licking Brian's face, laughing.

It was when the licks moved downwards and became caresses that Brian would smile and dare to pet Nick's head.

It was cold in the stone hallways of Minas Tirith, cold and forever drafty. It made Merry's bones ache, making every movement a reminder of the time that had passed since he had walked these halls for the first time. He had been hurting then, too, a very different pain, icy numbness in his hand, which seemed to recede as soon as Pippin took the stiff fingers into his warm hands.

Pippin. So very young, but also so much older than when Merry had seen him last. He had aged during their time apart, had shaken off the last remnants of childhood forever. Yet now, looking back, Merry knew that Pippin had still been very young, despite everything.

Opening the door to his room, a croaky voice yelled at him for letting the draft in, and Merry smiled softly. They were not young anymore, neither one of them. But they were still together, and Pippin still warmed Merry from head to toe.

John almost turned back when the pain began. He did not want to die alone. He had already done a couple of steps back to the jet when the pain closed in around him, forcing him to his knees.

When the pain disappeared he almost walked on. But what was there for him to go back to? Bobby had not even tried to follow him, he had been trying too hard to please Marie. No, Bobby could go screw himself - and Marie, too, as far as John was concerned.